


Bruce Wayne is the 67th element of Mendeleveev’s periodic table

by RedNightDeer



Series: superbat week (2020) [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Clark Kent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempt at Humor, Bruce Wayne is hoe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Don't copy to another site, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Barry Allen/Hal Jordan, Minor Patrick "Eel" O'Brian/Oliver Queen/Dinah Lance/John Constatine, Multi, Not Beta Read, Omega Bruce Wayne, Superbat Week 2020, minor Micheal Carter/Ted Kord, slutty Bruce Wayne, this fic is full crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedNightDeer/pseuds/RedNightDeer
Summary: Bruce needs to attend a gala as Brucie Wayne, while the Justice League is protecting the said gala from a possible villain attack. However, the Justice League doesn't know Batman's real identity. Shenanigans ensue.--Superbat week day 3: Kidnapping
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: superbat week (2020) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850119
Comments: 24
Kudos: 249
Collections: Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)





	Bruce Wayne is the 67th element of Mendeleveev’s periodic table

**Author's Note:**

> The art is brought to us by BlueNeon987 again. You can find it [here](https://twitter.com/BlueNeon987/status/1288095478928859136?s=20). It is also at the begining of the fic. 
> 
> I would like to precise this is full crack and Bruce is out of character the whole time.

Bruce took a deep breath as he stepped out of the limousine. He put on his most charming smile and waved his hand, clutching tight on the fur cloth he was holding with his other hand behind his back, hiding a bit of his exposed ass. 

Immediately cameras flashed and microphones were stretched towards him. 

“Mister Wayne!” 

“A word about your outfit, Mister Wayne?”

“Bruce! Why this outfit?”

“Do you not have a date with you, Mister Wayne?”

“Your outfit, Bruce?”

“Bruce!”

“Mister Wayne!”

Bruce walked on the red carpet steadily, smiling and making sure he would look photogenic in every picture. 

His black semi transparent corset made it hard for him to breath but Bruce didn’t care about it. It was a piece from the Thierry Mugler haute couture collection of the fall-winter 1998 and 1999. 

It was a high collared bodysuit with sleeves and a corset, semi transparent with black shiny vertical lines. It had thigh high stockings, semi transparent with vertical black lines too, that were linked to the body with garters. And a fur coat at the back attached to the body so you didn’t have to hold it all the time.

True hoes never complained, thus Bruce kept smiling.

He walked down the red carpet with his head hold high, as if he owned it. Then he entered the manor where the gala was taking place with a little flying kiss to the bodyguard at the door. 

At his act, more flashes flashed. 

As he was finally in, an alpha garçon proposed him a drink and Bruce took the champagne flute while chuckling the boy a “thanks hottie,” which made the face of the boy heat up. 

Bruce, after blowing another kiss, trotted to the middle of the ballroom where the art pieces were exposed. 

It was a modern art exposition by some famous artist Bruce couldn’t remember the name because he hadn’t paid any attention to it while Alfred had been reading the invitation letter to him.

People needed to know something; Bruce always had respected art. It was one of the most brilliant things humanity had invented. And Bruce respected modern and surrealism art even if he preferred the Renaissance paintings. 

But paying eight thousand bucks for a trash can that was filled up with some kinda hard slime that represented whatever human condition just was a pain in the ass. 

Even if the money was partly going to a charity in Metropolis. 

Actually, the only reason he had accepted to show up was the charity. 

When Bruce accepted to go to a gala, there were always more people showing up to it. 

But the rules of high society gathering etiquette imposed everybody to buy something or give at least a decent sum of money to the charity in question. 

That was the biggest reason why Bruce always accepted to attend charity galas. His presence helped people. And if a child would not die freezing in the streets because he just spent an evening in a boring place, it didn’t take long to decide which option to go with. 

Someone stopped next to him and Bruce eyed them. It was an alpha man, wearing brown slacks with a green turtle neck. And a multicolour scarf on the turtle neck. 

Bruce wanted to scream.

A. Fucking. Scarf. On. A. Turtle. Neck.

Oh God. Who was that heathen? 

“I’m Boris Style,” he introduced himself, holding a hand out.

Wow, for a man with the last name Style, well, he lacked it a lot. 

Even Harry Styles had more style, God bless his soul. 

“Bruce Wayne,” he said with a charming smile, taking the hand. 

The Boris brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Pleased to meet you, Bruce.” His eyes were shining with a hungry flame and Bruce felt the hairs on his neck raise.

_Stay professional, Bruce. Stay professional. Don’t slap the bitch._

“This is my exposition,” said Boris with a proud smile.

 _Oh. This explains a lot. Like artist, like art,_ he thought, glancing at the trash can. 

“It is quite a nice exposition, I have to say,” lied Bruce. 

First rule first, you never degraded someone’s work openly in High Society. That was what bitches did.

Bruce was a superior being. 

“I’m happy to hear it. Could I give you a little tour?”

_No._

“Yes, please,” he chuckled.

They started by the trash can. The man said it was meant to represent the pollution of the world and the green of the slime was the forests that we treated like trash. 

Okay, there was an idea. A nice metaphor and all. But this shit couldn’t be worth eight thousand dollars. 

He still smiled and chucked to Boris’ lame jokes. 

Oh God.

The next art was just a frame with nothing in it. 

Four thousand and five hundred dollars.

Some metaphors about human conditions. 

Bruce could smell Ikea from the object. 

He kept smiling. 

The tour went on and he was really starting to get fed up with Boris’ shit. This man was just so boring. He should have called himself Boring Styleless. 

This thought brought a genuine smile to Bruce’s lips, but he understood a bit later, Boris had interpreted this smile as a reaction to one of his jokes. 

And he put his hand on the small of Bruce’s back. 

Bruce tensed.

The hand went lower, on his almost nude ass. 

Bruce tensed even more. 

Was this Boring Styleless really, really, (really dude?), touching his ass? 

Bruce turned his face towards the alpha, shocked, with an open mouth ready to slap some insults into this bitch’s face.

To unlock touching Bruce’s ass, you had to be level one thousand. Boring was level minus two thousand and one right now. 

Bruce’s eyebrows went high as his eyes widened and he raised a finger. 

“Ya withdraw yo hand or I swear-“

“Hey, look who’s here, Brucie baby!”

Lex interrupted them with his Lexie grin, a flute of champagne in one of his hands. 

Boring withdrew his hand right away.

“Hey,” said Bruce back. “Long time no see, Lex. I wish it had stayed that way, ain’t gonna lie.”

“Oh you’re breaking my heart,” he joked. 

“I wish I was.”

Lex lost a bit of his so sure smile. 

_Suck it, Lex._

“Well. I just wanted to know, Bruce, do you need any help?”

Bruce cocked his head. “Why should I need help from you, Lex?”

Lex stood next to him and looked at Boring.

While putting his own hand on Bruce’s ass. 

“Our man here was touching you. Knowing you, you didn’t give him the right, am I right?”

There were two things Bruce hated: someone touching his body without him giving them any permission, and some douchebag Alpha playing the white knight with the intention of being the one touching him. 

Guess what? Bruce was the Dark Knight. He could protect himself without any help. 

And tonight, ladies and gentlemen, Bruce was going to slap two bitches.

He put down his flute on a nearby surface, which was one of Boring’s works, raised his hand, and slapped the so-called artist. 

Then he turned to a very surprised Lex and slapped him too. 

And walked away.

He didn’t care if anyone saw him. He was Bruce motherfucking Wayne. What could these peasants do to him? Other than gossip? Well, nothing.

He headed towards the buffet to eat some appetisers. He knew he couldn’t eat much, his corset was too tight, but he was hungry. And no one stopped a hungry omega. 

As he took a piece of fruit, Diana came to the buffet, serving herself some pastries. 

She was wearing her armour with some jewellery and a sophisticated red cape with golden embroideries. 

She looked like a queen. 

The whole Justice League was present at the gala. They had intercepted messages about some villains wanting to attack it. They had decided that they would attend it. Except for Batman. 

Bruce already had accepted to show up as Brucie, so he told the others he had work to do and won’t be able to help them. 

Batman was an alpha. A very strong alpha. The most alphaesque alpha you could meet in your life. The other Leaguers didn’t know his real identity, thus, thought he was also an alpha in his civilian life. 

Well, he wasn’t. He was the most omegaesque omega out there. 

Bruce took another fruit and ate it. Dammit. If he didn’t have this corset, he would be eating the whole banquet. He took another flute and walked a bit, trying to remember where each Leaguer was posted. 

Flash was patrolling around the building with Green Lantern. J’onn and Superman were on the rooftop, as the watchmen. Diana and Aquaman were in the manor, looking for anything suspicious. Hawkgirl and Cyborg were on monitor duty. 

And here was Bruce, being a hoe. 

He spotted Arthur in the distance. He was looking at an aquarium with intensity and all the fishes in it were looking back at him. 

_Oh my God. He really can talk to the fishes,_ grinned Bruce. _He lied to us!_

As he decided to head back to the buffet to eat a few more fruits, a sudden quandary made him lose his balance and Bruce almost fell. He would have, if he hadn’t grabbed a nearby beta’s skirt and torn it completely. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, under the beta’s angry gaze, “send the bill to the fucks I give.”

Bruce swiftly started running towards the buffet. They were being attacked, but he wanted to eat more of those candied fruits, and he still had the chocolate cake to taste. 

As he finally managed to attain the buffet and put on a platter some of these shinny jelly fruits and some lemon tartlets, he searched with his eyes for the chocolate cake. He finally found it, but his eyes widened in shock, as he started gasping like a fish out of water. He was sure, Aquaman could have understood some fish words there. Maybe it was something like ‘taxes and chicken’ or even insults, but Bruce wasn’t gasping like a fish because he wanted to communicate with Aquaman, no he was gasping in shock for the chocolate cake that was on the floor, his creamy body burst on the ceramic tiles, the raspberry juice leaking out of it and forming a puddle under it. 

Bruce fell with a cry, the plate in his hand flying away and shattering on impact, the candied fruits and lemon tartlets spilling out, rolling on the floor like his mom’s pearls had two decades ago, in that alley. He gasped for air again before crying with hot tears streaming out of his eyes. Someone had murdered his chocolate cake!

“Mister Wayne!” 

Bruce turned his face to the man who had called him. Aquaman was running towards him. 

“Fuck off,” he screamed as he was still gasping for air. “I’m not trying to communicate with you!”

He saw shock on Aquaman’s face, surely for the sudden and unsolicited insult. He gasped too, and Bruce’s anger rocketed. He didn’t want to talk to Aquaman! He didn’t even know how to talk fish in the first place!

Aquaman regained his composure a few seconds later and then held out his hand so Bruce could get on his feet. “Mister Wayne, you need to get out of this building-”

“My cake!” he cried. 

“What cake?” asked the alpha.

Bruce pointed to the unrecognisable brown puddle on the floor. “This cake! My cake! My cake was murdered, officer!”

Arthur’s stupor could be read on all his body. “Mister Wayne,” he started back, sighing. “Please, you need to leave the place.” He took Bruce by his arm and started pulling him towards one of the unblocked doors. 

Around them, Diana and Flash were fighting with two monsters. Bruce tried to stop Arthur, because those two monsters looked like sea creatures and who’s better than Aquaman, the dude who talks to fishes, to stop them? 

“Aquaman! Go and help them! I will go out alone, don’t worry!”

He saw suspicion in the alpha’s eyes, but then Arthur judged that Bruce could close alone the twelve feet that were separating them from the emergency exit. 

“Okay, but be fast,” said the alpha as he left Bruce and ran towards his colleagues to defeat those monsters. 

“Of course,” mewled Bruce, as he made an one-hundred-eighty degree turn and ran towards the stairs going down, in the caves of the building. He went down and searched for the safe that was supposed to be here. A very valuable item was hidden in it, and the last thing Bruce wanted was the villains to get it. 

It was a buddha terracotta statuette from the seventeen century, made in Bangladesh, but what was important was what was _in_ the sculpture. 

Bruce headed towards one of the rooms, and entered it. He already knew it was the room in which the safe had been hidden. He had studied the plans of the building until he had memorised them. 

Of course, his League colleagues didn’t know about the statuette. He hadn’t told them anything yet. He had something to confirm first. 

He unhook the frame of some old general dude, surely from the War of Waterloo, from the wall and saw the safe. He took off his fur coat, opened one of its hidden pockets and took out a stethoscope. 

Bruce put it on and then stuck the diaphragm to the metal door of the safe. He started turning the safe combination, listening to all the little noises it made. In a few minutes, it would open and Bruce would be able to take the statuette. 

He could hear the fight upstairs get even more wild, but he trusted his colleagues. They will surely win against those monsters. What bothered Bruce was that the real villains hadn’t appeared yet on the scene, which meant those two monsters were there to just distract them. Their goal was the statuette. 

As he heard the safe open, he hopped happily and took out the object of his wants gracefully. So this is how Selina felt, huh, when she stole during galas. Maybe Bruce should do it more often too. Maybe even get himself a cat costume and whip his enemies. 

Ah, kinky.

Exactly like Bruce. 

As he was going to let go of the statuette and break it in a million pieces, with a little ‘oops’, like in those pictures of Ai Weiwei in which he breaks an urn from the Han Dynasty, someone entered the room. 

Bruce turned and looked at them. 

Black Manta starred back at Bruce. 

One solid minute later, Bruce, not letting go of the statuette, took a seductive pose, leaning against the wall, and, with his most alluring voice, said: “Hello, handsome. Are you lost?” 

It took Black Manta a few seconds to understand what Bruce had said. His alpha scent took a predatory turn and he sneered. 

“What are you doing here, you cute little bunny?” He took some steps towards Bruce. 

The omega went along the wall slowly, trying to attain the door. “I like the view.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

The alpha snickered again. “You’re my best view,” he said, the lust in his voice clear. 

Bruce thought about it, then shrugged. “Nyeh.”

He jumped on the alpha and tackled him to the ground and then started running, holding the statuette between his arms. He just had to go upstairs and call one of the leaguers for help. As he was going to climb up the steps, he was pulled back with ferocity against Black Manta’s chest. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled. 

“To fuck your dad!” he screamed as he started trashing in the alpha’s hold. 

“Jeez! Calm the fuck down!” 

“Calm your mom the fuck down!”

The alpha growled dangerously. “Stop insulting my parents!”

“Fuck you and seven generations before you!”

That was what tipped off the alpha on the edge and he gave Bruce a punch. It sent the omega rolling on the floor, but he didn’t let go of the statuette. 

Black Manta walked towards him and as he leaned down to take the object, Bruce jumped on his feet and gave the alpha a side whip kick, making his helmet detach and fly away. Both watched it roll and hit a nearby wall. Bruce already knew Black Manta’s real identity, but not the public, which meant Brucie Wayne neither.

He took again a defensive stance and started calculating how he could go upstairs. He had to hold the statuette, which meant he couldn’t really use his fists to fight, only his legs. He was disadvantaged. 

The alpha grinned. “Didn’t know Brucie took taekwondo courses.” 

“Gotta protect myself from dogs like you.” 

“In lingerie?”

“Yeah, motherfucker. Got a problem with it?”

The alpha sighed, looking annoyed. “Look, give me that statuette, okay? Your pretty head wouldn’t even understand the real importance of it.”

“Talk for yourself!” 

“Do you really think you can win against me? I’m being polite right now, by _asking_ you. You better give me that statuette or I swear I will beat the fuck out of you, omega or not.” 

Bruce knew he couldn’t really show the guy he was black belt in twenty different martial arts. He was Brucie Wayne in this specific moment and he had to act like it, which meant nothing too garish in the way he fought.

Bruce took a deep breath and tried to run towards the stairs again. He was of course tackled down by the alpha. 

“Too late. Should have accepted my proposition, bunny.”

Bruce started thrashing again, screaming at the top of his lounges. Maybe one of the leaguers or Superman would be able to hear him. 

Black Manta hit him a few times, then gave a kick to his stomach, which made Bruce want to throw up all he had eaten until now. For a mere second, he was happy that he hadn’t eaten the chocolate cake. He wouldn’t have wanted to throw it up. He wasn’t wearing his suit, which made the hits and kicks hurt him much more than usual. 

He was beaten until he was sure he was going to pass out. As the alpha leaned down to take the statuette, Superman and Livewire descended the stairs while fighting. Both stopped one second to look at Bruce and Black Manta.

The alpha wrested the statuette from Bruce, and then shouted to Livewire: “Let’s go, I got what we want.” 

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” commented the beta woman.

“Let’s go!”

Leslie ran towards Black Manta, seized the omega by his waist and threw him on her shoulder. That, Bruce wasn’t expecting. He had expected to be left in the corridor. 

“What are you doing?” asked Black Manta. 

“He saw your face, idiot!” she said, as they both ran towards the secret passage Black Manta had used to enter the building. Superman flew behind them to stop them but Livewire threw Bruce to Black Manta, who caught him, and turned around to send lightning bolts to Superman. The hero managed to dodge the first one but the second one sent him flying against a wall. 

_At least_ , though Bruce, _Superman knows I’m being kidnapped. The league will surely save me._

Bruce lost consciousness when Black Manta threw him in one of his submarine’s cells.

* * *

Bruce opened his eyes slowly. He had a headache. He growled and when he tried to move, he understood he was tied to a chair. He raised his head and saw Cheetah, Livewire and Captain Cold sitting around the table in front of him, doing different things. Leonard was checking his guns, Leslie was listening to music and Minerva was eating a hamburger. 

Bruce didn’t know what he had expected, but surely not them to be this casual. Finally, Captain Cold noticed that he was awake and he called Black Manta. 

The alpha came a few moments later. He was out of his armour, wearing a red t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

Bruce pursed his lips. _Grey sweatpants?_ Bruce wanted to pay Deathstroke so he would kill this dude and Boris Style. These two were definitely trying to _murder_ Bruce tonight with their waredrobe choices. 

“Finally awake?” asked the alpha.

“I’m not gonna lie,” said Bruce, “I would have preferred _dying_ than waking up to this. Which alpha that respects himself wears grey sweatpants?”

Cheetah and Livewire chuckled, while Cold turned to Black Manta and shrugged. “Wayne has a point,” he whispered. 

Bruce could see the alpha getting annoyed by all of this, and suddenly, Bruce wanted to know what his limits were. Even if he wanted to keep ridiculing the alpha, he knew he could be killed, and that’s what made him shut up. 

“Ha, ha,” said Black Manta, then he promptly grabbed Bruce’s hair and pulled it up strongly, making Bruce let out a cry. “I really wonder if you will keep being a jokester once you will be sold as a whore.” 

Bruce glared at him, as Cold put a hand on Black Manta’s shoulder. “Dude, if there is human trafficking, I’m out of this,” he said, but the alpha just slapped his hand away. 

He leaned down, towards Bruce’s face, so close that the omega was able to smell the alcohol he had just drank. “Shut your mouth up. Just, shut up. I don’t want to hear you talk. I don’t even want to see you move, you stupid bitch. What can you really understand? You know nothing, Bruce Wayne. Nothing. You were born with a silver spoon. You lost daddy and mommy when you were eight but what happened? Nothing, cause that silver spoon stayed in your mouth. So just shut up and let the adults do some work. Your rich bimbo ass is surely still processing my first words.” 

Bruce raised his chin and looked with pride in the alpha’s eyes. “Blow me.” 

Black Manta kept staring at him for a few seconds, then backed away with a sigh. He went to search something and came back with duct tape. He tore a piece, big enough to completely mask Bruce’s mouth and approached the omega dangerously. 

Bruce trashed, but his upper body was securely tied to the chair. When the alpha came too close, Bruce threw up one of his legs, kicking Black Manta on his head and sending him off. 

At that precise moment, one of the doors burst open and Wonder Woman walked in, immediately jumping on Cheetah and hitting her hard enough to make her pass out. Captain Cold took his gun and fired a shot but Diana dodged it. Flash entered the room a few seconds later, but as he was running towards Leonard, Livewire shot him with her lightning bolts, sending him flying through the room. He hit the TV screen but got up on his feet immediately. 

Flash ran towards Leslie, dodging all her shots and then punched her. She backed off, holding her cheek. Cold was going to shoot Flash but Superman appeared behind him in one second, wrested the gun from Leonard’s hand and broke it in two pieces, then punched the man strong enough to take him out. 

Livewire tried to shoot lightning bolts again but Aquaman sent a wave of water on her, which made her electrocute herself. She passed out too. 

Bruce looked at his colleagues, then to the villains that were all scattered around the room, unconscious. 

“Hey, who took out Black Manta?” said Flash. 

“Not me,” answered Wonder Woman, while Superman and Aquaman shook their head. 

As she walked towards the alpha on the floor, “I did,” purred Bruce, prideful. 

All of the eyes turned towards him. 

Diana leaned down and poked Black Manta’s cheek, rolling his head to the other side. “There is something on his cheek. It’s red and looks like… wax? Plastic?”

“It’s from my Louboutins,” he said, raising his foot to show how some of the red was missing from the stiletto’s sole. “And I definitely want compensation.” 

The Leaguers glanced at each other, then Flash laughed anxiously, scratching his neck. “Well, ugh… about that, we will have to talk about it to Batman.”

“No,” said Bruce, shaking his head from right to left. “I don’t want it from you, but from them.” He pointed with his chin to the unconscious villains. “And, if possible,” he added, purring and putting one leg on top of the other, making them look longer than they were, “I would like to be untied, please.”

All of them jolted, remembering that the reason they had come was to save Bruce Wayne. 

“Of course,” said Superman with an apologising voice and burnt the ropes with his laser vision. “Here, please,” he mumbled as he presented his arm to Bruce. 

Bruce smiled and accepted it, and once he was on his feet, he snuggled into Clark’s side, not letting go of his arm. 

Clark’s cheeks got as red as his cape and he averted his eyes, starting to stutter. “Uhm… Let’s g-go?”

Bruce nodded, mewling a soft, “Yes.” But then he suddenly remembered the reason he had been kidnapped: the statuette. 

“Wait,” he said, pulling on Superman’s arm as the alpha had started walking. 

“Yes?”

“There is a statuette here. A terracotta one of Buddha. That’s what the villains wanted from the beginning. I don’t know why it’s so important for them but I think it would be better if the League takes it.”

Bruce had wanted to confirm his suspicions first about the statuette, then talk about it to the League, but they couldn’t either leave this place without it. 

“Oh,” said Clark as he started looking around with his x-ray vision. “Ah, I see it. It’s behind that door, in the closet, in a wooden box.” 

Flash went immediately to retrieve it. He came back three seconds later with the box. “Anything else, Mister Wayne?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think. Well, I could still report the murder of my chocolate cake.”

All of them looked surprised, except for Arthur who sighed. “Let’s go,” he growled, turning his back to them and walking towards the jet that was waiting for them outside of the warehouse. 

Bruce walked stuck to Clark’s side, making his face go from one shade of red to another one. 

Once they boarded the jet, Bruce went and sat on Superman’s lap, hugging his neck. “Is it okay if I stay with you?” he purred. It wasn’t okay. Bruce had to sit on one of the chairs and buckle his seatbelt. 

Clark seemed to want to say exactly that, but then he turned his eyes away, and with the most red cheeks, he said, “You can.” 

And then he did something Bruce hadn’t expected at all, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Bruce knew the moment he would ask Clark to remove his hand from his hip, he would do it and apologise forty times at least. 

Bruce mewled and leaned even more on Clark’s chest. The alpha’s strong scent was soothing him unconsciously. 

“I feel safe,” he whispered, the words leaving his mouth in the most natural way, but of course Superman heard it. His chest swelled and Bruce chuckled. 

The trip lasted a few hours. The villains had kidnapped Bruce to Miami. They surely had traveled along the east coast from New Jersey to Florida with Black Manta’s submarine. 

Bruce didn’t leave Clark’s lap even once and Clark never attempted to get up. This went on like this until the jet landed in Gotham’s airport, and even there, the omega didn’t want to get up at all. Clark’s lap really felt safe to him and the alpha didn’t attempt to move either. They stayed a bit like that, knowing they had to get up. They finally did at some point, Bruce hopping on the jet’s metal floor from Clark’s lap, when Diana made a comment. 

It was dark out and the sky cloudless, which let them see the stars shine. Alfred was waiting for him with the black Chevy Camaro. 

Clark accompanied him to the car, while the other Leaguers talked to the G.C.P.D., and Alfred raised a brow.

“Hello, Sir,” he said towards Superman, “Master Bruce,” he added for the omega. 

“Hello, Alfred,” he said, suddenly feeling like he was a teen about to introduce his boyfriend to his father that was hiding a shotgun behind his back. Well, Alfred did have a shotgun, but Bruce highly doubted the presence of that said shotgun near them right now. 

Alfred opened the door of the car for Bruce to enter it. The omega turned to Clark, still holding his arm. 

“Mister Wayne,” said Superman, a sudden wind making his indomitable curl fly. 

Bruce shuddered. The wind had made the air chilly and the omega was only wearing lingerie. 

Clark, seeing this, made an attempt of getting closer to Bruce, to protect him from the wind with his frame and warm him up with his body heat. 

Bruce got closer. “Mister Superman,” he answered, their face getting dangerously close.

Clark swallowed, and whispered, taking Bruce’s chin between his fingers and raising it; “Mister Wayne…”

The apparition of a sudden shotgun between their faces made them both back off as a clear and distinct: “Master Bruce,” was heard. 

Bruce turned to Alfred, then lowered his head when the butler pointed the car to him with his eyes. He got in the Chevy with a pout. 

He looked at the two persons through the tinted windows, then knowing Clark would be able to hear him, he whispered; “Let’s meet again, Superman.”

He saw a smile appear on Clark’s face while Alfred was surely giving him a version of the shovel talk. 

The alpha left a few minutes later and Alfred finally got in the car. He looked at Bruce through the rear-view miroir. “Master Bruce,” he said, sighing, looking like a very tired parent. “Did you forget that you work with him?” 

Bruce did, indeed, work with Superman, as Batman, and Batman was an alpha. The most alphaesque alpha. 

“Bruce, if you want a serious relationship with him, you will have to tell him the truth.” 

“I know.” 

Alfred nodded and turned on the car, driving to the manor. Bruce leaned in his seat, throwing his head back. He had to tell Clark the truth. He wanted a relationship with him, and Clark surely wanted too.

* * *

Batman walked in the meeting room of the watchtower, his cape fluttering behind him, like he owned the place. Well, he did own it actually. His steps were heavy, his chest out and swollen. He was the archetype of an alpha. 

Cyborg and Wonder Woman were seated in their respective places, waiting for him. The terracotta statuette was standing on the table. They hadn't dared to break it yet. The scans had shown that a very big piece of kryptonite was settled in it. Victor had already documented it in the League’s database. They just needed to break the statuette and then Bruce would take it with him to hide it. No one knew where Batman stored the kryptonites and the information was in none of the League’s servers. 

Victor broke the statuette after getting a nod by both Batman and Wonder Woman. The stone shone brightly, with a sickening green. Well, maybe it wasn't sickening for the others but if you wanted to ask Bruce, he hated green. Too many villains from his rogue gallery used green: Joker, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Ra’s, Mad Hatter, Killer Croc… well Croc couldn't really do something about that, it was his skin after all. 

Bruce took the rock and put it in a box made especially to cancel its effects. Diana had to just sign a paper (it was the protocol. If you wanted to ask Bruce again, it was just annoying rules but you know, he had made them, so he couldn't really complain) and then Bruce would be able to go and store the Kryptonite. 

Once all the papers were signed, he took the box and left the room. One his way back to the zeta beams, he saw Superman talking with Supergirl about some trivial matters. Surely about some ‘Super’ related matters. You know, something only Kryptionians surely understood. Maybe they were talking about the fact they had three stomachs, with walls ten times thicker than a human’s stomach walls, that let them eat almost everything or maybe their weird eyes that had two nictitating membranes; one for the x-ray vision and one for the heat vision. 

When Bruce walked past them, Clark turned towards him when he saw him, apologised to Kara and walked towards Bruce. 

“Hello,” he greeted and Bruce nodded. “What is that box?”

“Kryptonite,” answered back Batman. “It was in the terracotta statuette.”

He saw Clark pull a face at the mention of the green rock, but he didn’t look as he was feeling its effects, which meant the box really stopped them. 

“So you’re going to store it?”

“Yes.” 

Clark nodded, thoughtful. “You know,” he said with some blush on his cheeks, “Bruce Wayne helped us find it.”

Bruce suddenly wanted to kiss him. Those rosy cheeks were just too cute, and the way Clark’s breath had gotten caught in his throat when he had pronounced his name gave him chills. He had pronounced it with respect and love. 

He wanted to push back his cowl and show him that he was indeed the one Clark liked but he couldn’t do it here. He bit his lip and thought about how he could tell his real identity to Clark. He remembered Alfred’s words, recommending him to tell the truth to the alpha as soon as possible. 

He sighed and pulled Clark suddenly by his wrist in the first room he saw. He had expected it to be empty but it wasn’t. Blue Beetle and Booster Gold were making out in it, half of their costumes on the floor. They stopped immediately as one of the intruders let out a high pitched scream. It was Clark, because Bruce wouldn’t let out a cry like that. He was the most alphaesque alpha, so he just growled, pulling Superman out of the room and slammed the door behind them. 

“Uhm, Batman-,” tried to say Clark but Bruce kept pulling him towards another door. He opened it and was greeted by the sight of two other superheroes making out. Hal was ravishing Barry's neck, while the speedster was laying on one of the tables, the Lantern between his legs. Bruce heard Clark squick again like a little hamster. He sighed and closed the door while Barry was shouting a “This isn’t what it looks like!” to them. 

“Batman, maybe I should-” 

But Bruce didn’t let him finish his sentence. He opened another door and this time, it wasn’t two superheroes making out. No, that would have been too easy for them, so this time it was four superheroes; Plastic Man, Green Arrow, Black Canary and John Constantine. 

“Oh fuck this shit! I’m out!” he screamed as he slammed the door shut. He turned to a very pale looking Superman. “Is this a love hotel?” he asked at the alpha. “Is it?”

“Uhm… no?”

“It is not! So why the fuck are they acting like it’s one?”

“Because they are… horny?”

Bruce sighed and looked at the other doors in front of them. “Hey,” he said. “Check the rooms with your x-ray vision. I don’t want to ever see a plastic dong in my life.”

He saw Clark glancing away, avoiding to look in his eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“I… I don’t want to look into them. It feels like voyeurism.” 

“You’re the one with the x-ray vision. I can’t check the rooms without opening the doors.”

“Yeah, I know, but it feels wrong.”

Bruce sighed. “Okay,” he mumbled, “just listen for a heartbeat in this room,” he explained, pointing at a door. 

Clark nodded. “I hear one heartbeat,” he said after a few seconds. 

Bruce nodded and walked towards the door.

“Wait!”

“What? That person is alone. They’re not having sex with anybody.”

“Yeah, but maybe they are doing, you know… the thing.”

“What thing?”

Clark swallowed. “You know, the do… the Han Solo....”

“Superman, what the fuck is a ‘ _Han Solo_ ’?”

“Masturbation, dammit!”

Bruce looked for a few seconds in Clark’s eyes, trying to keep back his tears. Superman, the most righteous man in this world, had just screamed to him ‘masturbation, dammit’. What a time to be alive. Bruce sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay… well… why not. Then, is the heartbeat fast? If it is not, they surely aren’t doing the Han Solo.”

Clark concentrated for a few seconds again. “It’s slow,” he pointed out. 

“Okay, so, we can enter the room, right?”

The alpha didn’t answer him, uneasily moving from one foot to the other. 

“We can’t?”

“What if they are taking nudes?”

Bruce was really going to cry. Superman had just talked to him about nudes. “Okay, look,” he said with a deep breath. “I’m going to open the door and look in, okay? You don’t have to look, for your part.”

Clark nodded. “Okay.”

Bruce turned towards the door and pushed down the handle, opening it just a crack. Inside, Shazam was sitting and writing on some papers. He looked up from them when he heard the creaking of the door. 

“Hi, Batman,” he greeted.

“Are you sending nudes?”

“What?”

“Superman wants to know if you are sending nudes.”

Shazam laughed nervously. “Uh… right now?” he asked. 

“Yes.”

“No?” The superhero looked queasy and as if what he was living was an unpleasant dream. 

“Okay. Did you engage in coital activities in this room?”

“No?” His brows furrowed. “I was doing my homework,” he said, holding up the papers so Batman would be able to see them. 

“Okay,” nodded Bruce. “Now, out. Me and Superman need to talk.”

“Isn’t there any other room available?”

“No, there is not,” he growled dangerously. 

Shazam raised his hands in defense. “Okay, okay! I’m leaving!” He gathered up his schoolwork and left the room in a hurry. 

Bruce turned to Clark. “This room is clean,” he informed him. 

The Kryptonian nodded and entered the room, walking past Bruce. “So, what did you want to tell me?” he asked as Batman closed the door. 

Bruce put the box on the table and sighed, then with a swift movement, pulled his cowl back.

The reaction on Clark’s face was undescriptible. He looked so shocked, like the kids that learn Santa doesn’t exist. 

“No way,” he whispered.

“Yes way,” mumbled back Bruce, scratching his neck and looking away. 

“But…” said Clark, “you’re an alpha…. and an omega? I… I’m lost…” 

“I’m an omega in real life, but for the mantle, I had to act like an alpha.”

“But Bruce Wayne is a playboy… you…”

“That was an act too. Come on, who would think the playboy omega Bruce Wayne might be the scariest alpha in the whole town?”

Clark looked away, thoughtful. He was surely connecting all the dots in his head. Suddenly, he started chuckling, maybe it was genuine or just from nervousness. “Bruce Wayne… is Batman…” he whispered, shaking his head with a soft little smile that made Bruce want to kiss him. He raised his head and looked in Bruce’s eyes. “So, what made you decide to reveal to me your real identity?”

Bruce gulped. “Because...” he started, “Because, after the events of me being kidnapped by Black Manta… we… or at least, I… I felt the want to know you more… but I knew… I had to… to do this,” he said, pointing at his uncowled head, “first, because… I know you are Clark Kent, from the Daily Planet…” 

Clark nodded, silent. Bruce was afraid that he had said something he shouldn’t have. Maybe now that the alpha knew he was Batman, he didn’t want him anymore. He jolted when he felt two hands on his arms, and Clark very close to him. 

“Can I kiss you?” asked the Kryptonian. 

Bruce nodded and met Clark’s lips with his own. He put his arms around his neck while the alpha’s hands embraced his waist, pulling him against that strong chest. Quickly, their kiss took a more passionate turn, with tongues slipping in each other’s mouth and discovering those places. 

They kept kissing for a while, until they stopped abruptly when they heard the door open. They both stilled. Bruce wasn’t able to see the intruder since his back was turned towards the door, but this meant that person couldn’t see his face.

“I had forgotten my highlighter…” said softly Shazam’s voice. The queasiness it carried was palpable. “But you know what, forget that.” As he closed the door, Bruce was able to hear “What a talking,” being mumbled.

He slowly looked at Clark, who’s cheeks were a deep red. The Kryptonian looked back at him and suddenly both of them started laughing. Then Clark kissed him again and Bruce smiled into it. 

“We should go on a date,” the alpha said after the kiss. 

“Hmm, we should… now, kiss me again.”

“I thought this place wasn’t a love hotel.”

“Do you mean we’re going to have sex here and now? Sorry, mister Kent, but I don’t do that before the first date,” he whispered, kissing Clark’s mouth’s corner.

“Then we shall definitely go on a date,” he chuckled. “What about saturday night? I know a really nice place.”

Bruce smiled. “Okay.”


End file.
